


Paint

by AppleL0V3R



Series: Meant to Be [1]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8085073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleL0V3R/pseuds/AppleL0V3R
Summary: One-shot collection. 1. Shorts - Paint. She stares at the jeans with abject horror because they are her favorite pair of jeans and now they're stained with paint.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If you've heard of it before, then it’s obviously not mine.

“It is so not the same!” She snapped, with one clenched fist shaking as the other held the ruined clothing.

Yes, she ruined her uniform on a nearly weekly basis when she was in the Feudal Era, but she _wasn’t_ in the Feudal Era and this wasn’t her school uniform. Goo and guts and poisons and demon blood were one thing, getting those on her clothes generally couldn’t be helped and besides she was used to that. And having her clothes torn and shredded. But that was her uniform, she could replace that and eventually she wouldn’t even wear it anymore. And besides, she wasn’t even in a situation where ruining her clothes could be helped. She was safely at home.

“Why the hell not?” Her insensitive travelling companion shouted back; equally tensed and irate as her.

Kagome made a noise of pure frustration as she considered the merits of telling the hanyou to ‘sit’, repeatedly.

With the progress on gathering the shikon jewel shards, return trips to her own time were becoming increasingly rare—this time around, she happened to have brought Inuyasha with. Not because she needed anything in particular, but merely because he had chosen to tag along after muttering something about being left alone for the new moon. Inuyasha accompanying her to the modern era was something that seemed to happen more often than not when she got to visit home for a short time. Usually he claimed that he did not want the hassle of having to come get her if she stayed too long, but she could not see what the difference would be if she really _did_ end up staying longer than he wanted her to.

Now she was remembering what she usually did not bring the guy along at all.

Living in a home that doubled as a shrine meant lots of upkeep. Kagome was no stranger to yard work and chores, or any other task that required doing in the name of keeping the place clean enough for visitors and the like. Periodically, it also meant painting. Buckets and tarps and brushes and rollers all laid out in the name of being presentable. When Mama had told her it needed to be done and she would need help, Kagome had figured that having Inuyasha with her would make things easier. She forgot that painting houses and such were not a chore he would have had to do at any point in his seemingly long life.

At first, it had been almost amusing to watch him pick at the rollers and poke the liquid paint in his attempt to accustom himself to the material they were using and how it would work. It was even photograph worthy to watch him try to start at the top by leaning upside down over the roof rather than use the step ladder her mother had dug out.

She should have known that it would not take long before something went wrong. Like paint on her favorite pair of jeans.

Sure, she knew the wisdom of wearing old, expendable clothes when setting to tasks such as painting, but she had not actually been wearing the pants. In fact, she had not even left them anywhere close to being easily dripped on. And yet, he had still managed to splatter the cloth with a gob of house-white paint on new dark blue, practically designer jeans.

Which had lead in to the argument the two were currently carrying on. The one where all of her cloths might as well have been her uniform, and what did it matter if a little bit of harmless paint got on them? They were just pants. And it was not even blood and guts!

She begged to differ. Heartily.

Normally she would chalk their arguments up to Inuyasha being Inuyasha. This time she suspected it was Inuyasha being a guy from a bygone era with no sense of fabric. Which did not spar him any of her anger. He was, after all, the one who managed to get paint on jeans that should have been considered to be well clear of the splatter zone.

But rather than pursue the futile attempt of getting the hanyou to see the error of his ways, she turned around and stomped towards the entrance of the house with the intent of finding her mother. If anyone could rectify this travesty, it would be her capable mother. Except, she got as far as the entryway before she remembered that her mother had left to run errands and probably would not be back for at least another couple hours. Despair dropped her shoulders at the realization, but the sound of bare feet on wooden panels accompanied by a familiar irritated voice renewed her anger in no time.

She whirled to face the white-haired half-demon even before he had his mouth completely open, but he was hardly intimidated and forged on like always. “What’s yer problem, Kagome? They’re just pants! The paint’ll come out, right?”

With a huff, she squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes. Clearly, they were going to have this argument anyway.  “No, Inuyasha! It will not just _come out_ , they’re may favorite pair and now they’re ruined.” Well, maybe not _ruined_ , but still. The point was that they were probably going to permanently have a faint staining of the thick paint they’d been using.

“Favorite?! Why on earth would you have a favorite pair of paints?” The pure genuine confusion on his face was almost enough to make some of her anger dissolve in favor of amusement. The modern era was full of concepts and objects that confused and excited and interested Inuyasha, and she had always been a sucker for watching him try to figure it out. She thought it was funny. She also usually thought it was cute.

Which did not make her jeans any less ruined.

“Yes, favorite. I _like_ these pants more than any of the others I own—ergo, _favorite_.” Realizing belatedly that had come out as more of an explanation than a comeback she hasted to add, “And for your information, paint _stains_ , so the pants won’t be the same anymore.”

Inuyasha scowled at her as he stalked over, dripping paint on the floor and tracking it with his bare feet while he was at it. But paint came off of wood easily, so she was hardly worried. She stared indignantly right back at him as he closed the distance between them. Once he was in arms reach he snatched the article of clothing in question out of her hands and proceeded to start inspecting the stain, paying her sputtered protests absolutely no mind in the process.

But the childish young man could be incredibly stubborn and she knew from experience that attempting to retrieve something from Inuyasha before he was done with it would not go anywhere—and she generally ended up falling on the floor for her effort. And considering her floor currently had drops of paint smattered on it, she decided not to try snatching her pants back.

After a moment he eased up, tossing the fabric back at her with a muttered ‘keh.’ “Look, it’s still completely, can’t you just wash it off with water _before_ the stain sets in?” He shot her an irate look that had ‘what’s the problem?’ stamped all over it.

Kagome completely froze for a second.

And remembered that cold water applied quickly enough made the entire problem go away.

Crap.

Now she had to apologize for throwing a fit over something that could have easily been solved with a little bit of common sense. She stared at the pants a moment longer, debating on the best way to approach the topic.

But apparently she dragged her feet a little too long for the guy’s liking, as he huffed and then barked at her. “What’re ya waitin’ for, Kagome? Go wash it off already.”

Jumping a little at the sudden demand, she huffed right back at him. Yeah, she was in the wrong—so she would make sure to pack a few extra snacks for him—but she was _not_ apologizing to the domineering jerk. Throwing him an look of aggravation, she spun on her heel and marched for the main story’s half bath to wash the paint off.

With her back turned, she missed the eye-roll and half-smile on Inuyasha’s face.


End file.
